Chapter Text
He didn’t want to feel this way. He had a lot of hang ups by way of sexual deviancy and there was a lot he would do without question. But this was a new development.
When he suddenly came back into his daughter's life, he really wasn’t expecting much. He wasn’t present for a whole lot of the family building aspect ever since Morty was born. It was all an unfortunate cycle of more human beings being added to his circle that he was supposedly required to care about, at least a little.
When he got to know them though, things changed substantially. One of those changes being directed towards the middle child of the Smith family - you. He seemed to have the same type of relationship with you as he did with Morty or Summer; barking insults, bugging you for help, and periodically bringing you along for an adventure that would leave you mentally scarred and/or physically disfigured.
But recently he would get angry at you for the smallest thing, which to be honest was a common reaction for him to have to most anyone; but this was like, Dad-level shit treating. It felt like he wanted nothing to do with you, while he couldn’t feel more differently.
Here he was. In his bedroom, with a tent in his pajama pants that he cannot get rid of and an atmosphere of extreme guilt permeating throughout the dim room. Normally in these situations, he could do quite literally whatever he wanted. In theory, he could have sex with anything in the universe without repercussions; however this case was less than ideal because it was the sole thing in the universe he couldn’t fuck without serious consequences. Which proved to be mentally taxing on whatever moral integrity he has left as well as extremely exciting.
His hands wander off to his sides, leaning backwards onto his cot gently and weakly trying to find a last resort. He peers at the clock, which blankly displays 2:50 AM. Great, now he knows the time, extremely fucking helpful. He reaches off his bed to what could only be called a nightstand in dire situations and grabs his flask, unceremoniously dumping its contents into his mouth. Well, those were the two best ideas he had - he’s doubling down.
Yes, by most creatures' societal standards; morally it is wrong to jerk off to the thought of your teenage granddaughter. Buuuuuuuut there's also no one directly witnessing it, so…
He rubs his temples with his right hand before covering his eyes, and gets to work with his left hand.
Tentatively he reached his pant line and slipped under the elastic, then with a twinge of shame and arousal he began to stroke himself slowly. He huffs to himself, letting his conflicting feelings meld in his stomach while precum coats his hand. Sparks of pleasure pool in his abdomen which signals him to go faster; his mind filling with thoughts and memories of you in unintentionally compromising positions, while you were none the wiser to his perverted gaze. He imagined what it would feel like if you were here with him, if you were doing the same thing he was at this hour, if you had the same sick thoughts about him that he had about you.
He imagined your soft hands wrapping around the base of his cock, shyly rubbing it before gaining the courage to put it in your mouth. His face winced as his pace quickened; letting out some more than shameful moans underneath his breath. God he wanted to touch you, to plant kisses on your forehead and whisper words laced with honeysuckle and half-truths into your ear. He wanted to corrupt and break you but he wanted to swing you around in his arms and give you everything. Fuck, he didn’t know what he wanted; but it involved you and that's all he cared about.
The thoughts in his head swarmed his senses as he felt the familiar coil of pleasure building in his core. He bucked into his own hand, practically fucking himself while he moaned your name. His hands stuttered as he reached his breaking point - spilling his cum onto the floor with a strained groan. He panted heavily before his senses got the better of him.
“F-ffuck sweetheart, I’m so sorry” he spoke softly to himself with a frustrated sigh. He let his head fall into his hand, making sure to avoid his other hand and scowled at himself. He couldn’t describe the way he felt, and even if he could it wouldn’t mean a damn thing. He was a mess, and instead of facing it he opted for the easier option which was to drink and go to bed.
Unfortunately, he didn’t account for someone to be awake that night; with a glass of water and trembling hands standing right outside his bedroom door for the past 20 minutes. From your perspective, you could’ve been none the wiser that he was thinking of… well, you. He just had to go and say your name. Multiple times. Of course you could act ashamed and disgusted… if you could leave out of your consciousness that standing outside of Rick’s bedroom at odd hours of the night while he touches himself has become quite the bad habit for you.
In your (completely unusable) defense, you had hit that age pretty quickly. So really how are you responsible for being naturally curious? You had a plethora of excuses you could try using in the event you got caught, such as “I had a nightmare” or “I wanted a good night hug” or something stupid like that. Effective lying was a skill you never got the hang of, and you were fairly certain that everyone knew that; so that’s out of the question.
Not to mention you would also have to explain why your hand was down your pants if someone actually caught you.
…Yeah now that you think about it, that would probably be a bigger problem to try and worm out of than why you happened to be there at that moment. You made a mental note to not let that happen.
You left as soon as you arrived, weakly trying to push out the knowledge that he really was thinking of you. Getting under the covers allowed for more thinking room and your mind soon filled with disbelief and a lot of other emotions you didn’t quite know how to process.
You’ve been told about the things he did, most importantly the way he abandoned your mom and how much that’s basically fucked everything up in the family dynamic. However you had no idea that this is the way he felt about you, especially treating you the way he does. You thought he was so cool and painfully attractive in a way that your brain tried to rationalize as normal, and now you know he clearly likes something in you ..so why does he have to suck so much?
Okay, maybe you were overthinking this. You definitely were. You just needed to go to bed and this would resolve itself in the morning, you could go to breakfast and look your grandpa in the eye and not have to acknowledge you jerked off to him jerking off to you; who, in his thoughts, may have also been jerking off. Like some kind of weird cycle of jerking off that continues infinitely and exponentially. The snake consumes its own tail, except it's the snake's dick or something. You don’t even know if snakes have dicks. This is just a really bad attempt at a metaphor.
Whatever, you just went to sleep. And whatever happened next would be perfectly fine and nothing would come of this event.
Definitely.